


[In Which The Issue Is Argued About]

by Exal



Series: 12 Conversations About One Thing [3]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Animal Point of View, Arguing, Drabble, F/M, Gen, Griffon Rider!Lon'qu, It's Never about the Dog, Pregnancy, Talking, griffon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29396481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exal/pseuds/Exal
Summary: "What is it about that name?" Postwar, post-marriage, after everything has settled down, this is how Lon'qu and Cordelia decide how to name their forthcoming child.
Relationships: Lon'qu/Tiamo | Cordelia
Series: 12 Conversations About One Thing [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2133747
Kudos: 2





	[In Which The Issue Is Argued About]

###  **III [In which the issue is argued about]**

A large lump of early-November snow, partially melting, slipped through a hole in the roof and landed directly on Kell'qa's neck. Kell'qa, who had been enjoying a late-afternoon nap, awoke with a start, growling in annoyance as snowflakes entered her eyes and freezing water soaked through her feathers. She stood and shook violently, tossing off the offending snow.

Kell'qa was a griffon, and like all animals (excepting some extraordinarily intelligent pegasi and wyverns), she didn't 'think' the same way humans and other sapient species did. Instead, series of images, sounds, impressions, and a few verbal labels would flash through her mind, creating something close to thought.

Still, Kell'qa was a very smart griffon, and the processes in her mind could be quite complex. As she looked through the hole in the roof the snow had fallen through, she planned to find a way to let it bee known that the roof of the stable would need repairs before the winter. The cold season was much harsher here than it was in the steppe of Kell'qa's natural habitat.

Kell'qa stretched her wings, yawned, and then put her head back down on her forelegs and attempted to return to sleep. However, the snow had ruined Kell'qa's restful state, and she found herself unable to fall back asleep. Kell'qa shifted, shifted again, took a few laps from her water tray, voided, preened her fur a bit, and finally laid back down, even less tired than before. She scratched at her neck with one of her paws.

Between the twenty-second and twenty-third scratch, Kell'qa heard her person shout. More than once, when both Kell'qa's person—the human she let ride her—and the red-crested other person were in their building, Kell'qa had heard this yelling. Usually, she ignored it, as none of the shouts were the “Hep!” that meant, “come here,” nor any of the calls that meant things like “rise,” “fly left,” or “fly as quickly as possible towards the creature that smells of rot.”

However, Kell'qa elected to investigate today, mostly due to her restless state. She walked to her stall door. The door was locked, but simply, meant to keep horses and pegasi from escaping, not to foil the nimble talons nor the sharp beak of a griffon. Quickly, Kell'qa opened the door.

She ignored the judgmental-sounding exhale from the pegasus in the next stall over as she prowled over to the home. Kell'qa had wondered, in the past, why two small creatures needed such a large nest. While so short and narrow Kell'qa could fly over it width-wise with just a few flaps, the dwelling was more than ten griffon-lengths long. Kell'qa slunk around the longhouse until she found a window that was slightly open. When she laid here quietly, she could hear the shouting inside.

“Why? Why do you continue to do this?!” yelled Lon'qu, he who Kell'qa was willing to carry.

“What crime am I committing?” demanded the other human, Lon'qu's mate. Cordelia, if Kell'qa could remember the sounds correctly. “What the hell am I doing so wrong?”

“You endanger the child!” Kell'qa peered through the window, and watched Lon'qu gesture towards his mate. His mate had given off the pheromones of pregnancy for quite some time—Kell'qa figured she would have her clutch in two lunar cycles or so.

“I went out!” shouted back Cordelia.

“You don't know how quickly night falls this late in the year,” responded Lon'qu, anger still on his face. “If you had taken a wrong turn, or tripped, I would have--”

“I've lived here for years!” Cordelia interrupted. “I know what the weather is like.”

“It is not merely that, and you know it,” said Lon'qu. Cordelia crossed her arms, waiting. Lon'qu sighed, and continued. “You continually disobey me!”

“I was not aware that you had been promoted to being my superior,” Cordelia rejoined venomously.

Lon'qu grumbled. “We had our vows,” he muttered.

“Vows?!” said Cordelia incredulously. “What do our wedding vows have to do with the price of tea in Chon'sin?”

“It is what they signified!” Lon'qu barked, “Loyalty. Devotion. _Obedience!_ ”

“I am sorry,” said Cordelia, voice dripping with equal parts venom and sarcasm. “I didn't know I was a servant now. Will Master be having a foot rub tonight? Or shall I merely _assume the position?!_ ”

Even through the window, Kell'qa could smell her rider's fury and could see his body tensed as it did whenever he swung his axe. For a moment, she thought Lon'qu was going on the attack, and wondered if she should attack as well.

But Lon'qu breathed deeply, and just as swiftly as the fury had risen in him, it vanished. Kell'qa was confused: now she could only smell Lon'qu's fear. “I don't...” muttered Lon'qu, and Kell'qa perked up again, the better to listen. She might be called to action at any time.

Lon'qu shook his head. “What were you doing at this time of the evening anyway?” he asked, voice still firm.

“Dio had—”

“Who?” Lon'qu immediately demanded.

“Dio! From town, the cobbler's boy.” Lon'qu grunted in acknowledgment, and Cordelia continued. “Dio's puppy had wandered off into the woods, and he couldn't find it. He asked me to help look for it.”

“You went outside for the good of a dog?”

“Dio was nearly crying, he was so worried! We did find her, not that you asked. It was _fine._ ”

“What if it was not?” challenged Lon'qu, “What if you had lost your way? Or you had tripped and fallen? Or if wolves or even Risen had attacked you? Would some shoemaker's whelp save your life?”

“This is nonsense, Lon'qu! Nothing happened!”

“It _could_ have. You were risking your life, and the life of Severa, our _child_ inside you, for nothing more than a child's mutt.”

Cordelia turned away. “Dio came looking for _you_ , Lon'qu, he admires you. But I was the one that could help.” She paused, then asked, “Is this how you'll be, Lon'qu, when we have a child of our own? Unwilling to do anything for what's important for her? When the child asks you to help a sick bird or to help her find a lost playmate, you'll just respond that it's too risky?”

Lon'qu said, so quietly even Kell'qa's sensitive ears could barely hear it, “Her name is Severa.”

“What?” asked Cordelia.

“I said,” Lon'qu responded, voice rising, “the child's name is _Severa_!”

“Oh, not this shit again,” Cordelia huffed.

“Yes, this!” yelled Lon'qu, “Why do you insist in referring to her as “the child?” As...as if she is some unknown infant? We talked about this. She is Severa.”

“ _I_ talked about this. _You_ made one decision and decided that was the end of it.”

“Sometimes a man must when his wife is speaking nonsense! We have met our daughter. We know what name we would give our firstborn—there's no reason to change that. None! Anything but Severa is ridiculous.”

“You think names are to be given out like sword blows?” asked Cordelia. “Identical ones to whomever comes your way?”

“If we hope to have her become half the woman we know, we cannot risk a change as major as this.”

“Lon'qu, we already have one perfect daughter, why do we have to minimize what she's done—who she is—by naming this child identically?”

Lon'qu glared. “So. Perfection is what you care about.” Cordelia winced, as if struck. “Perhaps if I was 'perfect,' you would actually respect our vows!”

“Vows again?!” Cordelia demanded, her voice quavering slightly, “My vows were to my king, my country, and my god, not to your infuriating whims!”

“Then return to your country, if it is so important! Return to your _BELOVED_ king!”

Kell'qa watched Cordelia's expression change abruptly. Once again, Kell'qa was confused—Cordelia had taken no blows or injuries, but her face was contorted in pain. “You...” she whispered.

Anything else she had to say was cut off by Lon'qu declaring, “I am going out.” It was stated with firm intent, but not shouted.

Lon'qu crossed to the door and out of sight of Kell'qa. The door to their lair opened and closed. Kell'qa stayed, though, and watched her rider's mate watch where Lon'qu had left. A moment after the door had slammed, Cordelia sat down and put her head in her hands.

“What are you doing out here?” Lon'qu asked. Kell'qa turned to face her person. Lon'qu had walked around the corner of the house and seen her. He sighed. “Got out again, did you? C'mon, girl. Get back home.”

Lon'qu led Kell'qa back to the stable without even needing to touch her—her rider's instructions were nearly absolute. She walked past the first stall, with its very smug-looking pegasus, and trotted into her own stall. Lon'qu locked it behind her.

Kell'qa turned to watch Lon'qu leave, but he turned, and stopped. To the right of Kell'qa's stall was a third stall, larger than her own. This stall had once been occupied by a wyvern. Kell'qa did not particularly like this wyvern, due to its extremely loud screeching and nonexistent sense of personal space. However, Kell'qa remembered having been in battle alongside this wyvern; Lon'qu had often had Kell'qa protect the wyvern and her rider, the young human who yelled a lot. Kell'qa figured that the wyvern must be important to Lon'qu.

Lon'qu paused at the door to the stall. At length, he opened the door and entered the empty enclosure. Through the wooden grille that made up the top half of the partition between the stalls, Kell'qa watched her rider walk to the center of the absent wyvern's stall and sit down on the straw-covered floor.

He was silent and still, for quite a while, and Kell'qa watched him, equally silently.

Kell'qa heard Lon'qu's mate before she saw her; she heard Cordelia's footsteps crunching the snow, and getting closer. Lon'qu seemed unaware. Normally, Kell'qa would warn Lon'qu of anything he was not aware of...but this was his mate. She couldn't possibly be dangerous.

Kell'qa stayed silent as Cordelia walked alongside the stable. She stopped at the third stall, and looked inside.

“...Oh...” said Cordelia. In the stall, Lon'qu looked up, meeting the eyes of his mate.

“I thought—” Cordelia said, “I thought I was the only one who came out here.”

There was a pause, one pregnant with such awkwardness even Kell'qa could feel it. Finally, Lon'qu nodded. Cordelia walked to Lon'qu, and sat down—next to him, but not touching. There was a long moment of silence.

Snow plopped down from the hole in the ceiling. The first stars began dotting the sky. 

“I miss her,” said Cordelia just as Kell'qa began to feel drowsy. “I miss her so much.”

“Have you received another letter from her?” asked Lon'qu, not looking at Cordelia.

“No,” replied Cordelia. “I don't...I don't even know where she could be right now.”

Lon'qu grunted, then paused, and, at length, sighed. “I miss her too.”

Cordelia turned to him, a weak smile on her face. Lon'qu continued staring into the crisp air for a moment. “You know...” he said, then paused. “Do you know how important you are to me?” he asked.

Cordelia opened her mouth to respond, but clearly couldn't find the words.

“You know my past,” continued Lon'qu. “You know what I have done and what I...have let slip through my fingers. By the time I joined the Shepherds...I had thought myself...unworthy of love.”

“Lon'qu...” started Cordelia, but Lon'qu raised a hand and silenced her.

“I thought I couldn't ever deserve to be close to anyone ever again. And then...you were there, powerful, and thoughtful, and everything I could dream of. That a woman like you could love me...” He trailed off. “It is my greatest fear...that it _is_ impossible. That someday, I shall wake up...and it will all be gone, as a dream.”

He huffed. “It is absurd.”

“No, it--” Cordelia moved to embrace Lon'qu, but then stopped, only putting her arms around him after he gave a barely perceptible nod. She rested on his shoulder and she held him as tightly as she could.

“It's not absurd.” Cordelia said, without letting go. “I know the feeling. ...I thought I could never be loved either. You were the first man who wasn't intimidated by me...or, rather,” Cordelia lightly giggled, “I _did_ intimidate you, but no more than any other woman. I am so happy I found you...you and Severa.”

She moved her head to look in his eyes. “What is it about that name?” she asked, “Why do you want to give it to...” One of Cordelia's hands moved down to her abdomen.

Lon'qu turned his head away from his wife. “...I have failed her as a father.”

“She isn't even born yet,” said Cordelia, with a slight chuckle.

“Not her,” Lon'qu stated. “We have seen the woman that our daughter would become, in a world similar to this. And seeing her has only showed me how badly I must have raised her. She is filled with anger, impatience, and self-doubt. She lashes out when upset. I cannot look upon her and say the man who raised her did well.”

“Lon'qu...” breathed Cordelia. “Severa's strong, smart, and deeply caring. She's a wonderful woman.”

“She told me to drown her in a sack. No daughter of mine should ever think that, even in pique.”

Cordelia sighed. “You are not the only one at fault, dear. Severa grew up comparing herself to me. It's not your--”

Lon'qu interrupted. “You...did not talk to the other one.”

“Other one?” Cordelia asked.

“The Severa in the outrealm that the Goddess sent us to.”

“...Ah.”

“You did not get close enough to talk to her—I did.”

Lon'qu took a deep breath. “Apparently, before I died in that world, I had told her to always stay calm on the battlefield. Severa had taken that to heart so strongly that she held everything, all her emotion, in. She was torturing herself, suffering continually under the weight of all she had experienced. All because of my poor advice.”

Lon'qu's voice lowered to a mutter. “I couldn't even treat the one here right...Told her she needed hardship in her life, for character, of all the stupid things. No one should...”

He paused, and Cordelia was about to speak when Lon'qu said, “I...just wanted to be the father Severa deserves. I need to treat her right...just...just once. ” Kell'qa watched, fascinated, as water flowed down Lon'qu's cheeks in thin ribbons. Was there another leak?

There was another silence, one that stretched like the shadows on the floor in the dusk light. Eventually, Cordelia spoke. “Lon'qu...I don't know much about the men who raised the girls you're talking about. I know they were a lot like you, came from the same place...but you're a different person. _We're_ different people.

“But I do know you,” she continued, “and one thing I know is that you've never backed down from something you wanted—Whether it was improvement on your abilities, a new skill...or me. And you won't back down, won't fail, at being the best father you can be and learning from your mistakes.

“Besides, I want to be better than the other Cordelia as well. Do you think I want my daughter to grow up endlessly comparing herself to me?” Cordelia paused, an expression of thought on her face. “Here, you know what? You were so big on vows before?”

Lon'qu met his wife's eyes again, finally. “I am sorry about that. You never--”

“Never mind,” said Cordelia, shaking her head, “It's fine. How about we make another vow, right here? I vow to face whatever challenges we find—parental or otherwise—by your side.”

Lonqu gave Cordelia a tiny smile. “Heh. A lot like our wedding vows.”

Corlelia giggled a little. “Well, sorta. Our wedding vows weren't said in a wyvern's stall.”

Lon'qu paused, then laced his fingers through Cordelia's. “I vow,” he said. “To face whatever I have to do as strongly as I possibly can—all the stronger because you'll be there with me.”

Cordelia nuzzled into her mate's shoulder, still holding tight to his other hand. Another silence fell around Kell'qa, but this one of contentment and comfort. Drowsiness overcame Kell'qa. She lowered herself to the ground and curled up, her tail brushing her forelegs, then placed her head on her talons and drifted off.

The last thing Kell'qa heard before falling asleep was her person asking, “So...what should we name her?”


End file.
